Dark Unicorn

by Taylor Haiden

  “Layla, come!” I called. She ran over and positioned herself protectively in front of me.

  “Princess,” Lord Barkus leered.

  He spent much of his time undressing women with his eyes, even when he wasn’t distracted dispensing harsh punishments. I stared at the man’s bulbous nose and the greedy pinpricks he had for eyes.

  Thackery must have taken after his mother's side of the family. He had many awful qualities, but his looks weren’t one of them.

  “Lord Barkus,” I said, dipping my head slightly. My lips smiled curtly, but my teeth may as well have been dipped in poison. I didn't know what to do with my feet. I couldn't take another step forward. The gaze of so many men kept my back up like an invisible wall, magic or not. I crossed my arms over my chest, now draped in a green tunic. I didn't look much like a princess today, but I'm sure no one cared.

  “I always thought my son would take you for a tumble in the haystacks,” he said, fingers twitching toward something metal around his belt. Whatever it was, he had it mostly concealed beneath a thick brown cloak. The edges of the fabric were covered in a layer of dust I couldn't believe someone as proper as he would tolerate.

  “Though, I thought you'd both have sense enough not to be going at it with circumstances are quite so dire.”

  Lord Barkus knew damn well that I'd broken up with his stupid son, he'd complained about it for weeks. I balled up my other fist, and the men around the Lord seemed to tense. Not so sturdy, these hired men, though I suppose you'd take any muscle you could get if you were a treasonous bastard like Lord Barkus. How much damage could one woman without magic inflict? I could summon some now, but then it'd all be gone. I'd have nothing left but the emptiness of where it should be.

  “Father,” Thackery implored him, trying a change in tactics. Maybe he'd finally realized he'd get more bees with honey than asshattery.

  “We weren't taking a tumble in the hay. Wren was just changing out of her nightclothes.”

  “Ah,” Lord Barkus said, swinging his arms out like he was up for a game of Cards at The Club, “Just out of bed then,” he remarked.

  As though I'd just left my bedsheets—where he was no doubt envisioning me with his son—gross. Lord Barkus' coat swung back in his excitement, and I caught sight of the device that was dangling from one belt loop.

  They were shackles—the kind that resisted magic.

  “I dare say, the King's children have been such a disappointment. What with your swine of a brother stealing our Heart, peddling it to some half-blood collector like it was nothing more than a shiny bauble.”

  My eyes shot to Thackery's against my will. My father taught me never to show surprise, but the truth was I was abysmal at it. I was relieved to see that Thackery hadn't known either.

  The Lord delighted in my ignorance, but as he stepped closer to me, I moved back.

  “Is that what you're here for?” I asked him, trying to push calmness into my voice. “To catch my brother?”

  If that was their purpose, perhaps I had misread the situation, there might still be hope that we could end up on the same side. As if there were only two.

  A bead of sweat trickled down my hay roughed skin.

  “Not entirely, not yet at least,” Lord Barkus said.

  He'd pulled the shackles off his belt. I breathed out slowly.

  “Don't do this father, if you want Wren back in Woodhaven, I'm sure she'd be willing to travel there with me,” Thackery said, his voice a sweetly thick balm. There was no chance of that happening in a hundred lifetimes, but his eyes said ‘trust me’.

  I had no friends here, not even him, but I hadn't any other options either.

  “Very well,” I said softly. I counseled my face into a tranquil stone. Pale, unmovable. “I'll go with Thackery,” I concluded.

  He kicked his horse over to my side and held out the reins of my horse for me. I wanted to reach for my horse instead. Thackery’s face was as steady as his hand. I took it and helped pull me into the saddle

  Hard eyes watched our every move—that was when things went wrong.

  Thackery yanked his reins hard and his horse reared back. The Friesian spun and kicked and the men closest to us sprang back. I realized that was precisely what Thackery had in mind.

  I dug my heels into Juko’s side and the Andalusian lurched forward.

  “Stop her!” bellowed Lord Barkus.

  One of the men grabbed for my reins, but Layla attacked him, growling and sinking her teeth deep into his arm. The man howled and two others rushed to his aid, giving me time to escape.

  “Layla!” I yelled. But the dog was suddenly fighting for her life, dodging a swipe with a sword and leaping out of the way of a mistimed kick. Throwing my hair out of my face I looked back, pleading for her to follow. She yelped as she took a cut to her front paw. Those dark eyes met mine and I knew she was sacrificing herself so I could get away.

  “Layla, no!” I screamed, turning my horse back around.

  Then Thackery was at my side, his horse blocking the turn as he smacked Juko’s backside. “Don’t let it be for nothing!”

  He was right. We couldn’t go back. Tears sprung to my eyes as I watched my faithful pups’ final moments. One of the soldiers raised his axe high and I looked away.

  “Thackery!” His father’s call made him flinch, but Thackery did not slow.

  Lord Barkus’ men were soon scrambling after us, but Layla had given us the distance we needed. Their slower horses soon fell behind. With no immediate danger of them catching us, I pressed myself against the chestnut neck of Juko and cried harder than I ever had before.

  Our horses’ pace slowed from a gallop to a trot. Eventually my eyes dried and my breathing slowed, lulled by the steady rhythm. I felt like I was floating in a dream as we closed in on the Western Wood. I knew it was nothing but worry and shadow, but the sight of the trees before me seemed to blot out the sun. It was like an ink spot that was eating up the page ahead of me—drop by drop—until only a dark, all-enveloping blackness remained.

  I expected it to be wet, and it was. Humidity hung in the air from the very first branch of the woods. Fog flooded the ground shortly after. The forest floor muted the sound of both sets of hoofs. If anything, the moss-covered ground would make it even harder to track us. We snaked through the clearing and around a cluster of oaks and pines that provided some cover.

  “Whoa,” Thackery shouted.

  His horse and mine both obeyed in an instant. “Who are you talking to?” I asked bitterly, “The horse or me?”

  I was winded, shallow lunged as if I’d run away using my own two feet. My legs ached, but so did everything else.

  “The horse, of course—a far better listener than you.” Thackery’s voice was tight, sharper than usual as his clear eyes darted around us. The damp earth masked our passage, but it would also hide the approach of anything hunting us.

  Thackery slid off his horse and before I knew what was happening, pulled me off Juko. At first I wanted to slap him. Instead I folded into his arms and started crying all over again. The loss of Layla was devastating.

  We stayed that way for a long time, Thackery stroking my hair and murmuring about she had been a ‘brave hound’.

  Finally, I gently pushed him away. “Where are we?” I asked.

  I’d never lingered long in the Western Woods. The only ones who did were bandits, thieves, and castaways—those who had abandoned or been banished from their homes. If there were people anywhere near here, they weren’t the sorts I’d want to meet.

  “You should get some rest. With all that’s happened…” he trailed off. “You’re not as strong with your magic is running out.”

  Thackery began digging through his saddlebag. “It was leaking out of you, strengthening the horse's legs and giving them speed as we made our escape.”

  I hadn’t even noticed.

  “You need a restorative,” he said, fishing out a small blue potion bottle. “It can’t bring your magic back
, but it should hedge any further loss.”

  Of course, I’d waste magic without meaning, without knowing.

  The potion was wrapped in purple fabric, no taller than my thumb and in the shape of a flower I didn’t recognize. Holding the bottle by its thin neck he reached out, wanting me to take it.

  My hand stretched to take it, but I hesitated.

  “I shouldn’t,” I said, “you should keep it. What if you need it later and you’ve wasted it on me?”

  Did I really just say that? I suppose I was grateful that he had helped save me.

  “Take it. You’re no good to anyone like this.” Thackery placed the bottle in the very center of my palm. The swirling sea inside reminded me of the ocean.

  I uncorked it with a pop and swallowed it down in half a gulp. I felt all my exhaustion drip away. It felt like coming to the fire to get warm, throat first. All my edges seemed to tingle. Thackery guided me over to a soft-looking clump of grass and spread out a bedroll. Sleep came over me faster than an extinguished flame, and I fell down and down into a dreamless slumber.

  Chapter 3.

  Wren

  Green lay beneath me, wet grass clinging to my no longer fresh clothing. Thackery's face was too close to mine. His breath hit my cheeks in short hot puffs.

  “Get out of my face,” I said, swatting him away.

  My arm felt light, but whatever haze had enveloped me would not let go.

  “What was in that?” I asked.

  “In what?” Thackery mumbled, his groggy eyes shrinking to slits before suddenly opening wide.

  “Wren, I could’ve lost you back there.” His voice didn't sound like it should.

  But he had lost me long ago.

  He didn't say anything else, just helped me remove the course horse blanket covering me. He pulled me to my feet.

  “I thought you still had enough magic left.” He looked down at the ground. “Potions can be hard on the magic-less.”

  The words sank down to my stomach like a rock.

  Magicless.

  “I was careless,” Thackery admitted. “Forgive me.”

  “You didn't know, I didn’t...” It was too late now.

  “My brother,” I breathed out.

  “Long gone, I'm sure.” Thackery pounded his fist into a dirty hand. “I'm sorry, but we have to move.”

  I meant to brush him off, to tell him I wasn't as weak as my head made me feel. My arms and legs felt fine, it was my thoughts that seemed foggy.

  Thackery practically tossed me over his shoulder and dragged me toward the horses like a bushel sack of oats.

  “Stop!” I shrieked. I was never the kind of girl to allow anyone to manhandle her—not yesterday before my old life had ended, and not now.

  “You stop,” Thackery barked. “My father’s men will have caught up to us by now. There are soldiers in these woods, murderers looking for you right now. I'm sure your pride will eventually get you killed, but it damn well isn't going to be today.”

  A long-forgotten conversation drifted back to me on a light breeze of memory, but I couldn't quite grasp it. Then I was on Juko's warm back, the reins thrust in my sweaty palm. Thackery tossed his legs over his own horse.

  “Follow me,” he ordered, “and for the love of magic stay silent.”

  Though my mouth stayed closed, a pounding sound like war drums filled my muddled head. Every breath, every snap, every startled bird that took flight in our wake, echoed like a shout I was sure would give away our position. Twice I started talking to myself, and twice Thackery shushed me. We cut across two or three game trails and finally emerged onto the main road. After listening for several minutes, Thackery gave the signal for us to move quickly. We ran the horses for ten minutes and then slowed them to a walk.

  “We seem to have avoided them,” Thackery said with a smile. “It’s probably safe to talk.”

  Finally, something to drown out my thoughts.

  “The light is so bright here,” I said. The sunlight seemed strangely vibrant and the shadows danced in an odd way at the edges of the road.

  “The sky is mournful,” Thackery said, “but the sunrise offers hope.”

  I couldn't read Thackery’s face, but I was sure that his blue eyes were focused on the road ahead.

  Something was in front of us blocking the road. A dead tree—no, the branches weren't wilted, but seemed somehow unnatural. It looked like it had been charred by fire. The leafless ends had braided themselves together. Someone had tried to burn their way past the fallen vegetation, and clearly, they had been unsuccessful...

  “Go around it?” I asked, but it came out as a stunted, unsure question.

  “Maybe we’d better,” Thackery said.

  I couldn't see an end to the trees on either side. At least we were alone.

  Tiny pinpricks on the back of my neck caused me to turn my head. I was mistaken.

  “Thackery,” I hissed.

  “Wren, I’m trying to decide the best way around.”

  “Thackery behind us!”

  The way we had come had changed, the wood growing closer together until it tightened into a black knot. I caught movement to our side. The trees were growing. The branches and roots rushed together to form a living wall. In moments we were encased in a wooden tomb barely wide enough for two.

  My lungs felt like they were being squeezed together. I looked up hoping to find some space, to take in some air. Crows the color of wet pitch caught the light as they took flight. The once bright daylight was dimming. Opaque bands bled into the sides of the world like watercolor.

  A gasp ripped from my throat, using up the last of my air. I wondered if Thackery had enough magic in reserve to get us out of this. My shoulders shook as gnarled branches snaked their way towards us. The sound of slithering vines cut through the otherwise silent woods.

  “Use your magic,” I rasped, my throat parched and windless. If he didn’t it would mean our death.

  I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move, I couldn't understand why Thackery dismounted from his horse. Then I saw him unraveling something covered in a thick canvas sleeve, tied up with seemingly with endless strings and buckles.

  Then I understood. What he unleashed was something meant to keep hidden at all costs, an object that my father couldn't have known about—something that Thackery's father would have kept for himself.

  It was a long sword. The blade was the color of a river bottom, just missing black. The silver hilt had a braid of jet jewels coiling around the whole thing like a line of dead stars. I suddenly realized what had drawn Lord Barkus after us. This sword was a darkened artifact. A magical item, like the Heart that powered Spellshallow—only instead of releasing magic, artifacts like this sucked it up. Like a black hole whenever it was wielded.

  A sword like this wasn’t inherently evil, they just tended to be used by those who were. With it the wielder could defeat any magic user, stripping them of any magical attack or defense.

  Thackery swung the blade soundlessly through the air before again mounting his horse. The Andalusian sidestepped uneasily as the branches came closer. Repeating his downstroke, Thackery swung the sword again, this time through a thick tree branch. The gnarled wood parted like water.

  I expected the tree branches to thrash about like earthworms ripped in half. They never even hit the ground. Instead, they turned to ash which was sucked into the shadowy blade itself. I chocked back the building bile in my throat.

  “Stay close,” Thackery called over his shoulder, his eyes were still trained on the trees. He hacked his way forward, turning wood to ash and the trees began folding in on themselves. They burned away like paper before us. Sensing their ruin, the trees growing behind us seemed to pause and then retreat.

  “What is that thing?” I asked, squeezing my knees into Juko's side.

  Thackery looked down at the smoking sword in his hand. “Haven't the foggiest, I only stole the infernal thing this morning.”

  Then he was galloping ahead. I stru
ggled to keep pace. I had always thought Thackery too good for thievery. There was a time where I’d have thought the same about myself.

  Seeming to sense my judgment, he turned to scowl at me. “Would you rather I had let us die?”

  Thackery's voice was cold and challenging in a way I'd never heard from him before. I could grow to like this side of him.

  “I see now why he kept it locked up,” Thackery admitted. Magical items were usually passed down in magical families. Too bad he hadn't killed Lord Barkus and taken it as his birthright, then Layla would still be alive.

  “I took it so he couldn’t use it against us.” He frowned at the weapon.

  The trees around us returned to normal. Dismounting again, Thackery wrapped the dark thing back up. Then he covered it in canvas, disguising its shape so it looked more like a lumpy sack of provisions.

  “The fewer who know of its existence, the better,” he said.

  “How ...” I began, thinking through the question again, “how the hell is the whole forest moving?”

  This time when Thackery chuckled, it wasn't quite so fierce.

  “I have no idea, Wren, but we have to keep moving. If someone did this, they might not like us hacking our way through it.”

  I rolled my eyes and began to thank him for saying the obvious when a high-pitched whizzing hit my ears. Something like the buzz of a mosquito but somehow both closer and further away. It seemed to hang in the air forever before slicing through the ends of my hair.

  An arrow embedded into the ground between us, spooking both horses into a gallop.

  “Now what?” I asked over the sound of pounding hoofs as we raced further into the forest.

  “Archers!” yelled Thackery.

  I looked over my shoulder to see two bowmen sliding out from the charred mass of trees behind us. They were on foot and weaved quickly in and out of the gnarled branches. Brown leaves and green vines stuck out from the edges of their hair and cloaks. Had they been nearly killed by the forest as well? Did they think we were to blame?

  They launched more arrows our way, but the trees provided cover and we quickly outdistanced them—no man could run as fast as a fleeing horse.